Vera's Day In Space : Part 3 : Morag (Marta & Gallanol Ch.3)

CHAPTER THREE: VERA’S DAY IN SPACE
( Marta & Gallanol Ch. 3)
Part 3 : Morag
Morag was a Galancian, from Enavon but her family had settled in Marta City while she had been at Primary Engineering School. A few years ago Morag had gone completely off the rails. Vera tried to recall the facts, but it was a long time ago now. At the time, Morag had been Vera’s closest friend. They had come through Primary Engineering together, choosing to sit together wherever the teachers allowed. Vera owed much to her old friend, who had on many occasions patiently explained difficult problems and concepts to her when the teacher ignored her difficulty. Vera knew now that in those days she lacked the confidence to ask. It had held her back then. She came through those early problems to much greater things in her studies. She had come to Diocletian whenever she had discovered a problem in her Technology of Space Station Maintenance class and had benefited from his personal explanations. In Personal Maintenance, he had been her own tutor and she had gained a higher level of confidence.

Morag was an outstanding pupil considering that she had to contend with a new language early in life. Fewer Martans bothered to learn other languages beyond basic primary levels because their own dominated international business. Galancians were more used to learning other languages, Vera supposed. Morag had excelled at all subjects from basic chemistry to further maths. At the time of her breakdown, she revealed to Vera that she had begun her serious education at the age of four, a time when Vera was still learning to read and write. Morag’s parents had put her on Early Learning Programmes. Her mother was an executive with a nuclear research project owned by MIOST in the Saullon Mountains. Vera could not remember clearly now but thought Morag’s father had a highly paid Pure Science role in the same Project.

One day after one of the short break weekends in winter Morag had failed to show up at registration. Her absence had caused quite a stir in the class. An absence without notice was almost unheard of in an A class. Some of the less mature members of class began to circulate rumours. They suggested many awful things about Morag.

Two young ladies had proposed the view that as Morag was a Galancian she was not strong enough to complete her studies. ‘It was just a matter of time before she couldn’t take the strain any more,’ was the view expressed. Vera was quite horrified at the time by that particular suggestion. Those two young ladies had stated it in all seriousness. It was the first time Vera had realised that some of the ancient nationalisms still existed in the modern world.

‘Hello, Vera,’ said a thin weak voice in the dimness. Stepping out into the light of the windows a small and upset figure had revealed itself.

‘Morag, where have you been? What have you been doing?’ Vera had said, relieved to see her friend but wanting to chastise her for the worry and diversion she had been put through. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, I’m alright. Well, no I’m not really,’ Morag sounded unusually confused. She was normally bright and sparkling.

‘Where have you been? We have all been talking about you. And the teachers are very concerned. You know you can’t afford to miss a single class. You’re not allowed to. Anyway, when will you catch up? You will not be able to, the schedules are so tight.’

‘I couldn’t stand it any more. I didn’t know what to do,’ said Morag. Tears were in her eyes and it seemed to Vera that her friend was about to sob. Vera didn’t really know what to say. It was a situation she had never experienced before, except perhaps with her mother when she got too “emotional”, but that was different. She did not expect this weakness from a friend. Something inside of Vera wanted to respond with sympathy, even though her training suggested a logical approach and did not condone this capitulation.

Vera had attempted to quell the outburst she had known was about to come from Morag, by suggesting they return to Vera’s room. Morag agreed but started sobbing as she followed behind Vera. Some other students began to approach behind them. Vera was very conscious that Morag would embarrass them both, but the students passed by. They would not have known how to respond either. They would have ignored Morag just as Vera would if she had not been her friend.

In the room, Morag began to explain, punctuated by spells of sobbing. Vera put her hands on Morag’s shoulders to stop her. To her surprise, this simple but unusual act seemed to have a positive effect. It helped to calm her.

‘You have done a silly thing. It will cost you in extra study. But if you pull yourself together, you will be ready for tomorrow. I will help you with today’s work. I have notes here, which I will duplicate for you. We can go through them together, now if you would like. It will help me too, encourage me to revise, and free me for other work tomorrow.’ Her offer had been selfless. She had done enough work and needed to relax for an hour or two before bed. She needed to be fresh first thing tomorrow morning. This would only ruin her strict regimen, which was the only way to succeed in the long run.

To her continuing horror, Morag had refused her offer. ‘Vera, I can’t do it any more. I have to stop.’

‘What do you mean, stop? You can’t stop now. You have successfully completed your preliminary levels. You have a good brain. You must use it,’ recited Vera.

‘I know longer know why I am working so hard. I have spent years of my life learning, and I have yet to use any of it. It will be some years yet before we do anything real with the knowledge. We don’t even know that because each person passes exams at a different rate.’ Morag was more coherent now, but was making little sense.

‘You know why,’ retorted Vera. ‘We must understand everything clearly so that when we arrive in space or whichever destination MIOST sends us, we will be fully qualified and competent to keep the machinery running. Some of us may even design or construct machinery.’

‘Shut up. I’ve heard it all before. Can you not stop and begin to think? We could keep many machines running with our present knowledge and with only a small specific training in the particular machinery we are posted to. Instead, we are pushed to study harder and harder over many years, which should be our best. Vera, we will never finish. Don’t you realise? When we do it will be to retire and die soon afterwards. They are using us and there is no point in it. None of it is necessary.’

‘What are you going to do?’ said Vera, returning logically to the point. ‘What are you proposing to do?’ Morag’s words had not made much sense. To do a job well one had to be trained properly. That much should be obvious to anyone. Why could Morag no longer see that? Was her friend losing her grip on reality? Morag had no sensible reply to Vera’s practical questions.

Morag had started to get angry and emotional again. Lashing out with her tongue at Vera and the pressures of study which must have been building up inside her for a long time. This was the reality inside Morag. Vera had not been able to see it before, but it was clear as daylight now. ‘Have you watched your vidscreen recently, Vera?’ Morag raged. ‘There are films on there you should see. But you don’t have time to see them because you’re working so hard. I never saw them until lately. I could not stand to learn any more. My head was going to explode. I put down my notes and switched the screen from computer to vid. I wanted to try something different; I was curious and frustrated. Do you know what I saw?’

‘No,’ replied Vera disinterestedly, but allowing her friend to let off steam. The least she could do was to listen patiently.

‘I saw a man and a woman. They lived on their own in the country somewhere, and they were happy. I think it was a Nardyrrian film. They loved each other and they did things like hugging and kissing. They had a family and were happy because they didn’t have to do anything that wasn’t natural. They grow food for themselves or bought it from their neighbours. These people were poor. They had no technology, but they enjoyed life. The man had worked in the city. I think it was Nardarric, but he was unhappy and lonely there. To make a better life for himself, he took a risk and left the life he knew behind. He found a country lady and they found an old deserted farm and settled there.’

‘I have seen films like that before,’ said Vera. ‘They aren’t real, you know. The whole continent is heavily populated. You can’t just walk out into the country and find abandoned farms. Country land costs nearly as much as city land, and there are roads and heliports everywhere. There is no self-sufficiency. That is an ancient concept, which kept people poor. We have developed beyond that. We have found that trade and specialisation generate wealth. We have developed technology. We live longer, produce more and are more efficient than we used to be. That film only showed a fanciful one-sided past. It was never like that and it certainly is not now,’ said Vera – her own knowledge on the subject making her quite eloquent.

Morag went on explaining some of the other things she had seen on the vidscreen – people she said were truly happy, actresses and novelists, travellers and musicians who enjoyed the things they did for a living. Vera argued against these too. ‘Happiness means success. You can only achieve that through hard work and application. Actors and musicians also have to work hard to achieve success and few of them end up with a steady career. This world was not meant to be easy, but with patience and application see what we have been able to achieve.’ She gestured with her hands. ‘Vidscreens, computers, instant communications, health and long life, fast travel, space travel, new planets discovered. We know so much now, and every day we can do more. You and I are part of that. Part of the next generation.’

Morag had riposted, ‘You will never understand, because you can’t see anything more. Your world is just numbers and performance. I don’t want that any more. I want something for me. I just want a life.’

Later, when Vera had been convinced that Morag really meant what she said, she had asked her what she was going to do. Morag had not known, but she wasn’t coming to classes any more. They parted that night still friends, but Vera had wondered whether she would see her friend again. There was something in her eyes, which told her that Morag’s words were not just words. The next day Morag was not in class. Vera took time out in the evening to visit her room but the door was closed and no one was there. Inquiring two days later to Accommodation, she was told that Morag had left without notice, handing back her rental documents. Vera did try to call Morag’s parents by Vidcall. Perhaps the number was incorrect or the parents, upset by their child’s defection, would not answer. The proper procedures – forms, computer entries, records, would have been made, but there was no further means of locating Morag. She had disappeared from Vera’s life without trace.

Vera wondered again, as she often had over the years, what became of her best friend. Had she found love and marriage like Martella to deflect her from a personal progress? Had she drifted for some months before rediscovering her personal motivation and re-entering some Engineering or Research Programme – possibly some other part of the MIOST organisation? Or had she sunk into unemployment? Vera did not know anything about unemployment except that it was not a feasible option but nevertheless existed. Weaker spirits unable to settle usefully to anything allowed themselves to drift into a purposeless existence of living off their family members or charity handouts. Many decades ago, there had been government aid for these people in some nations. Vera had learned at school of how big a mistake that had been. Millions of motiveless weaklings being supported by the hardworking majority. Alongside fraud and inefficiency, unemployment had been marginalised in the years since. The onus was on the individual to do something about his or her problem. With that common sense reform unemployment had disappeared except for a perverse few. From what Morag had said, Vera had interpreted her as saying that she wanted to live without work. Her friend had surely avoided that dishonourable path.

Vera finished her muesli quickly and placed the plastic bowl in the service terminal, a small cavity in the wall with a lid on it. Feeling the urgency of the day she pressed the button which opened her wardrobe. The choice of attire for the day should have been easily made because she needed few clothes on the Station. At work one was expected to wear a uniform but for engineers there was a choice of two colours. She would normally select at random. It was the logical way. On this morning something held her back and made her think about it. The red would perhaps bring colour to her face. The grey made her look pale. Aware of her own weakness – perhaps she was slowing down – early signs of age – she nonetheless deferred judgement.

She began to undress. Peeling off her pyjama trousers her gaze was drawn to the mirror which had been included, unnecessarily perhaps, in the design of each room on the station, a concession to human curiosity or a practical means of checking one’s own preparedness? Her hips were a source of satisfaction to her, not too large but quite shapely. Her legs were long but well muscled. She was proud of her body. It was something she rarely had time to think about, but she thought it now. Instead of reaching out to the wardrobe to select her clothing she pulled up the pyjama top and over her head to reveal the complete image of her nakedness in the mirror. The image looking back at her was good. Vera was caught by it as if she had never seen it before. She was tall and fit. Her muscles were well toned. Her breasts were attractive, neither too large or too small. Her brown hair was long, parted at the centre, clean.

Vera had little to compare her own body with. In the changing rooms she eyed the other “girls” politely as they doubtless did her. At times in the past she had felt less confident about her body than she assumed they did. Now by her own eyes she was reminded that she did have beauty. Age had matured her rather than spoiled her so far in life. As she looked at her own body she thought again of Diocletian, who in the cold light of a day in space, she knew she could never have, and she thought about other men. Would she ever find a mate, or even just a lover? She doubted it logically. If it had not happened already perhaps it was never going to happen. She had insufficient communication with males and she knew nothing to say to them beyond the details and theories of study and work. She pitied herself but there was nothing she could do. Life had trapped her. She had been taught to carry on studying and working regardless. Perhaps one day there would be time for other goals and opportunities.